police and that television station she works for don’t think that she just ran off. At least they’re considering other possibilities.”
Dread sliced into her soul.
“They suspect that she’s been kidnapped or worse.”
A soft cry erupted from her throat. “No—”
He held her gaze with eyes that were, in the gathering darkness, a dangerous shade of midnight blue. “I’m sorry, Maggie.”
“Look, Thane, I don’t want to hear this. It’s nonsense. It…it just can’t be. Mary Theresa is fine. She’s in Denver and—”
“I was there. At her place. She wasn’t there. Hadn’t been for days. Thursday she stormed off the set, then Friday she didn’t show up for work and missed a meeting with her new agent.”
“New agent?” Maggie repeated. “She’s not with Merle?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard the news. Merle Lafayette’s out. Ambrose King is in.”
“But she was with Merle for years…”
“Until she fired her about six months ago. King made her promises. Anyway, she stood him up.”
“She could just be out of town. You know how she is.”
His teeth clenched and a muscle worked in the corner of his jaw. “The police will be calling.”
“Oh, God.” She shook her head. “No,” she said with new determination. “You’re wrong. Something’s going on, sure, but—”
“Why would I lie?”
The question stopped her cold. She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed.
“Why would I drive all this way just to tell you a lie?”
Her head thundered as night descended. She felt detached and alone, as if she were watching a drama that she was a part of. “I—I don’t know. You’ve lied before.”
“Not about this.”
“No, but—”
He grabbed her hand, held it in a strong grip that squeezed hard. “I didn’t come here to freak you out, Maggie. But I thought you’d want to know, to hear it from me face-to-face. So just hear me out.”
He looked so beleaguered she half-believed him, and then the pain began in earnest, the agony of what he was saying plunged deep into her soul. Tears burned in her eyes. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“And, believe me, I don’t want to say it, but Maggie, you’ve got to listen. There’s a detective with the Denver police who thinks that she…” His voice trailed off to be replaced by the sounds of a calf bawling for his mother.
“What?”
His lips turned down at the corners. “That she might be dead.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, no—” This was all happening too fast; Maggie was getting too much information, too much horrible information, too quickly. Her guts turned sour, and she thought she might be sick. “Why? What would lead him to believe…” She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat.
“I don’t know. They haven’t found her body, at least not that I know of, but they keep searching.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t believe you, Thane. This is all too crazy. Mary Theresa is alive, dammit! If something had happened to her, I would know.” She hooked a thumb at her chest and jerked it in the direction of her heart. “I would feel it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but I would.”
“Because you’re twins?” He didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm.
“Because…well, yes. Yes! She and I are close.”
“You haven’t spoken in months.”
But I heard from her. Just a little while ago. She called to me. Maggie started to utter the words, then held her tongue. She’d learned her lesson long ago. No one would believe her. Not the psychiatrists she’d visited, not her parents, who were now gone, and especially not Thane Walker, her first love, her sister’s ex-husband. Stiffening her spine, she refused to break down. “I just think I would know. Don’t ask me to explain it, okay?”
He hesitated, then shoved his hair out of his eyes with both hands.
“Is there something else?” she asked, determined not to let this man with his wild allegations get to her.
“Oh, yeah.”
Her insides churned. “More speculation?”
“Maybe.” He mounted the steps. “As I said, it looks like I might need your help.”
“You?”
“The detective in charge—his name is Henderson—he thinks I had something to do with Mary Theresa aka Marquise’s disappearance.”
“You? But why—?”
A sharp woof heralded Barkley’s arrival. Three legs moving swiftly, the shepherd tore into the yard and raced up the steps. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled, his fangs flashed an evil white, and his mangled ear lay flat and menacing against his head as he smelled the intruder. He growled low in his throat, his black lips curling back, eyes centered on Thane.
“Where’s Becca?” Maggie asked as if the dog could answer. Thoughts of her sister were thrust aside. Maggie’s heart pounded. She scanned the darkness, searching for her daughter.
Barkley snarled and barked.
“What?” Thane asked, then commanded, “Hush,” to the dog, who backed off but still growled from beneath the rusting porch swing.
Maggie, fear turning her heart to ice, walked down the steps and headed for the corral that opened to the trail Becca had taken. Her gaze pierced the night-darkened fields. “Becca. She went riding about an hour ago. Barkley was with her…” Maggie strained, hoping to see the horse and rider but spying nothing except a few head of cattle, dark shapes shifting against the grass. Why would the dog return alone? Goose bumps rose on her flesh. “I hope something didn’t happen…”
Brrring!
From the open door of the cabin the phone jangled.
Unnamed fear congealed deep in her soul. She turned on her heel, raced across the yard and up the steps to the house. Past Thane and through the screen door, she flew through the living room and snagged the receiver. “Hello?”
The screen door banged shut, and Thane, with the growling dog guarding him, stared through the mesh.
“Ms. McCrae? Margaret Elizabeth Reilly McCrae?”
Her heart hammered wildly. “Speaking,”
